Author's Note: Written for The Houses Competition- I do not own Harry Potter and Affiliated Characters, and while not a crossover, it is a shameless homage to Lara Croft: Tomb Raider
Word Count: 3,056
Word Count (without A/N): 2,993
House: Ravenclaw
Subject: History of Magic
Category: Standard
Prompt/s: [Weather] Sunny day, [Object] Malfunctioning Portkey, [Character] Angelina Johnson, [Action] Being Chased
Angelina Johnson: Wand Raider
"Just a normal day at the office," Angelina muttered, as she tossed aside the greasy tin funnel, a portkey that was supposed to have taken her to the location of assigned field work. She readied her wand, all fourteen inches of holly encased unicorn hair, assessing her surroundings, suspiciously.
Though top secret, the briefing had detailed the site as being outside of Cambridge with the weather expected to be cloudy with possible rain. Wherever she had landed, a piercing sun was shining in the middle of an empty blue sky; a Scarlet Macaw soared overhead and landed in one of the dozens of flourishing palm trees that surrounded her. Either the Linton Zoo had expertly refurbished their tropical enclosure, or she was not in Cambridge at all.
The beaming sun coaxed sweat to bead from the nape of her neck down the collar of her Auror Robes. The government issued garments were charmed to handle the elements, but no British Wizard, not even a Ministry appointed tailor, could anticipate this sweltering heat.
Wand still poised in her right hand, Angelina picked at the clasps holding the Robes closed at the shoulder. She huffed a relieved sigh as the front lapels opened and her body could breathe. The heat and humidity were not abated but at least she was able to move more freely.
She surveyed the grove of palm trees she had landed in. She scanned the landscape collecting any hints useful toward determining her location. Jungle cacophony from all sides told her she was deep away from civilization. Disapparating from unknown places was never safe. It was done in desperate times, of course, but she was far from desperate. The corner of her lips curled up with curiosity. That portkey had been tampered with, after all. Someone wanted her here. Angelina Johnson was not one to decline an invitation.
She timed her breathing with the ebb and flow of soft breeze, gently pressing the sun's rays across her skin.
Who could it be? She thought, mentally combing through a long list of enemies. She visually sifted her surroundings again, this time in search of company.
She noted a feeble shimmer in the air just beyond the outer ring of trees circling her. To the untrained eye, one might think it nothing more than a trick of the light; a mirage made of heat and confusion. Angelina's honed senses knew better. It was one of her new playmates, heavily camouflaged by concealment charms, no doubt. She averted her eyes from directly looking at the glimmer, or else she'd give away their position as well as her upper hand. She unfocused her gaze to count how many more of these concealed spies surrounded her periphery...five. Five of them in total, standing in pentagram formation.
'SHIT'
She had to move now and move quickly before her new friends finished whatever ritual they were performing. They needed her alive, which meant she had plenty of options. She dropped all pretense and stared directly at shimmer #1.
I see you, her eyes taunted with a mischievous glint. There was a rustle beyond the trees that she interpreted as the shimmer's nervous reply.
She shrugged off her robes entirely, shedding the extra fabric that might hold her back. She rolled her shoulders as if warming up for a quidditch match. Her leather boots ground into the forest floor as she crouched. She gave the shimmer one more wink before executing her escape. The shimmering concealment charms fell, like curtains, as five masked figures stepped out of hiding to curse the spot she had been standing.
"BOMBASTICUUS!"
The spell catapulted her high into the air, the ground below erupting in her wake. The sonic zing of unfriendly magic sounded in her ears as she flipped testing her captors' aim.
Still in midair, she summoned a tree trunk, only instead of the rooted tree coming to her, Angelina was pulled soaring towards it. She clung to the palm tree and looked for the swarming enemy below. A witch on the ground threw a curse towards her. Angelina scrambled upwards to avoid the spell. The curse struck the tree with the force of lightning, and the trunk splintered beginning to give way.
Angelina leaned into the tree steering its fall forwards. Once at the proper angle, and gravity working to her advantage again, she clambered to her feet.
With a running start along the narrow makeshift bridge, she leaped the rest of the way to a pair of trees across the way. As she made contact with one tree she kicked off the trunk and reached for the next with an outstretched arm.
Another curse hit the tree she had kicked off, and she hastily threw back a defensive spell of her own. The explosion she sent landed and scattered those chasing her. None of them disapparated to avoid the blow, which probably meant there were wards up preventing it. She spent her bought time, summoning herself to the next tree she saw. She was close enough to the ground to jump down to make a run for it. She needed to pick up her pace. But she also needed back up.
As she ran, Angelina tapped her temple with her wand.
"Weasley! Weasley! Are you there? it's Johnson," She called, zig-zagging through the trees and vines. A voice in her head grew in volume.
"Angelina?! Where the bloody hell are you!?" Ron's voice burst with fury.
"A little detour," Angelina huffed, pushing herself to sprint, "Someone tampered with my Portkey to Cambridge." She turned to blast the base of a tree which crashed in the path of her new friends.
"And here I thought you were just bored to tears investigating more kidnapped unicorns."
This part of the wilderness was thick with greenery and tree canopies blocked out the vexing sun. Offensive spells began to whizz past her again. A spell grazed her arm and singed the sleeve of her shirt! She extinguished the embers on her arm, and for good measure tore the sleeve away at the shoulder.
"Not now, Ron," she growled, scrambling in a new direction, "They've got wards up to prevent Apparition, but they didn't manage to disrupt our communications. Can you find me?"
"I can try," Ron's voice was full of doubt, "But getting to you is gonna take a miracle."
"I do love a good miracle." She smiled breathlessly, "Keep looking for me, I need to keep my wits about me!"
"Cheers till then," Ron saluted in sign off.
She cut away to the right when she heard the rush of water. If only she had a lump of gillyweed to evade the pursuers underwater!
Still, a moving river could put more distance behind than her than running alone. Although the closer she ran to it the louder the water became. Louder than an ordinary river...
It didn't matter what it was. The jungle thicket began to thin and she urged herself towards the clearing, regardless of the danger ahead. She skidded to a halt at the edge of the sandstone cliff. The waterfall raged down in front of her. Her lungs on fire, she gulped air as she calculated her next move. But a suggestion was made for her.
"Surrender, Johnson," Called a snide and solid voice behind her.
'Of Course,' Angelina shook her head bitterly recognizing the voice. She turned over her shoulder with deliberate nonchalance to meet her captor, eye to eye.
Rex Gavenshaw was as bad as they came. A Ravenclaw at Hogwarts, who saw past the trivial nuances of grades and standardized tests. The knowledge he collected was secrets. Outside of any owner of the Marauder's Map, Rex was the only student in 100 years to discover all the Hogwarts Castle's various passages. Once out of school, he made a "career" as the Gatekeeper of the Wizarding World's underbelly. He made a point of being at the fulcrum of any seedy negotiation, and it was rumored that he could literally open any door in London.
He was of a shorter stature, and generally held his nose upturned in conversation with everyone, regardless of their height. His coiffed brown hair seemed permanently wind swept up and to the left. He walked towards her with a slight limp; his wand pointed at her chest.
She threw her wand, before he had the satisfaction of disarming her. Specifically Angelina dropped it behind her towards the waterfall. Rex scowled at this move. She had called his bluff again, he needed her for something, perhaps needed her wand even.
"Pity, that was a very good wand," Rex clicked his tongue in disapproval, "I have plenty, I am sure I can find you another."
Angelina flicked her eyes from Rex to the wand he held. There was something wrong with this wand. In fact, it was her job to be able to tell. Angelina specialized in magical instruments. Wands, Talismen, Wooden Staffs; anything that could channel a person's magic, Angelina could identify. All except for this one.
This wand was shorter, 10 inches, and the outer wood casing was uniquely marbled as if pieced together from a variety of specimens, and polished down into one complete wand. Wand makers are creatures of habit and do not veer from their trued and true styles. And this wand did not exude and aura of myth or legend. This was something entirely new.
Rex's cronies arrived from the brush; they were also armed with the same strange wands.
"Alright, Rex," Angelina said, cooly, "I have attended your little party. What's this all about?"
"I'd have thought you'd pieced it together by now. I know you didn't have the chance to investigate the stolen unicorns but perhaps you're losing your touch." Rex spat.
"You are manufacturing the wands…" Angelina realized, nodding to the crude instrument in his hand. Unicorn hair was the most consistent core available to power a wand. Surely any skilled wizard could fashion wood around it to sell on the black market, "But that is far too mundane for you, Rex." She flirted with danger, "Hocking discount contraband in Knocturn Alley isn't you, at all. And what do you need me for?"
"Right you are, Johnson," Rex grinned, "There's no money in doing your own dirty work," He mused, "And over the years, thanks to the likes of you Aurors; there are less and less business partners to attend to. So," He said with the fanfare of his wand, "Think of this as an investment, to pay dividends for decades to come. I am remobilizing my clientele….OR should I say you and I are!"
"What are you talking about remobilizing clientele?" Angelina inquired, talking another step back from the encroaching enemy.
"Think hard, Johnson," Rex scoffed, "Where is the best source for witches and wizards that require my wares?"
"Disgraced criminals with their own wands snapped?" Angelina asked dubiously, "I wonder where that could be," She blinked slowly, letting a trickle of sweat run down her forehead, "So you were building a gateway to Azkaban, with me as your avatar?"
"You have all the proper clearance," Rex smirked.
"So that's it then, you're going to storm the prison and hand out free wands like they're sugar quills?"
"You joke, but these wands are powerful!" He shouted, a vein bulging over his left eye, and sparks flying from the volatile tip of his homemade weapon. "I will have freed hundreds of your worst nightmares, and all of them with a spell as trivial as alohomora."
"That does sound like quite the nuisance," Angelina vamped, her breath trembled as she planned her next move.
"Now are you ready, Johnson?"
"To take you to Azkaban? Absolutely," she jerked her right arm towards the sky and in her hand appeared her wand! Provoked, Gavenshaw's men sent curses flying towards her. She danced out of the line of fire and deflected one of the curses. The energies of the spells blew back onto the devious caster and his wand combusted in his hand.
"Such craftsmanship, Rex," Angelina commented sardonically, "Did you really expect me to cast off my wand, in a jungle surrounded by useless sticks? You always have to check a witch's other sleeve." She wiggled her fingers around her wand, sweetly.
His fury peaking, Gavenshaw slashed his wand through the air sending unfriendly red lightning towards Angelina.
Again, she deflected the curses, sending them over her shoulder or using them against Gavenshaw's cohorts. Obviously, not skilled enough to contain the spells, their knock-off wands vibrated and burst in their hands.
One by one they fell and it was only Rex and Angelina facing off. She needed to disarm him, from it she was sure she could destroy his stockpile.
Gavenshaw was, among other things, a masterful duelist. Though short in stature he threw the whole of his body into each spell cast. And he never sent a spell from the same angle twice. She dodged every other curse by swerving her body out of harm's way, leaping and ducking, improvising each step.
He edged her closer and closer to the lip of the cliff. She charged him in an attempt to wrestle for his restless wand, but he fought her back with a stunning spell that landed like a punch to the jaw.
He whipped another stunning spell and she fell blown to the ground, rolling until there was no more ground.
Triumphantly, he cracked his neck before peering over the ledge to watch her demise.
To Rex's great anger, Angelina clawed at the crumbling stone, bloodied and bruised but grinning with manic joy.
Angelina threw her dangling wand arm at Gavenshaw, she proclaimed the spell like a battle cry, "EXPELLIARMUS!"
The wand shot from her opponent's hand like a rogue firework. Rex failed his arms to recapture his weapon, but it was lost. The spray of fiery sparks signaled that the force of her spell had destroyed it.
Angelina repelled away from the rockwall, and aimed her shot at Rex's feet.
"BOMBASTICUUS!"
The ledge of the cliff beneath his feet exploded and propelled her once more through the air. Rex was caught in the rockslide as more of the cliff disintegrated into the waterfall. Angelina lost sight of him in the dusty chaos; her supervisor was not going to be happy she neglected to apprehend him before he fell into a waterfall, but she had worse problems. A chunk of stone shrapnel had hit her wrist she heard the snap of bones and wood. As she gaped at her broken wand in freefall!
Angelina cradled her injured arm to her chest and prayed whatever the waterfall ended in was deep enough to survive the dive.
A hand shot out of the sky to catch her by the arm. She knew his touch anywhere, but all the same squinted against the blinding sun to meet her savior face to face.
"How did you find me?" She yelled against the thunderous water to the redhead flying the broom as it swerved upwards through the spraying droplets.
"My brother said you did love a good miracle." He called back with a grin, helping her swing into the space on the broom handle in front of him. She balanced herself on the broom, both legs swung over one side. She held his beaming face gingerly in both hands.
"That I do…Fred" she concurred, and leaned in for a kiss.
"George." He corrected mechanically.
"What?"
GEORGE
George woke with a start, the spray of the Costa Rican waterfall was now a cold sweat generated by the tangled bed sheets of his room.
"George, is something wrong?" his wife's hushed voice spoke beside him. He turned to look at her with wide eyes.
Angelina lay on her side, propped up by an arm waiting patiently for her husband to tell her what was on his mind. George slowed his breathing and thought of what to tell her.
"Bad dream," he confirmed, glumly. His mum had always said, 'honesty was the key to a happy marriage'. Angelina gave a drowsy and sympathetic smile, and reached to lazily graze his cheek with the back of her hand. He drank in the sight of her in a loose cotton nightshirt, and a silk paisley sleeping scarf holding up her hair. Far from the sporty and strategically torn Auror's uniform of his overactive imagination, but she was still the Heroine he had dreamed about.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah," He said, taking his father's advice this time, 'What your mother doesn't know won't hurt her.'
She studied his response with tired eyes. She knew he was holding back, but rather than interrogate him, she heaved a sigh and shifted under the bed covers. Wordlessly, Angelina entreated him to come closer into the space she had made between them.
"It's really warm," He began to decline her pity, "And I'm already sweati-"
"I don't care," She stated, blankly, yanking him by the shoulder. She scooped him into a tight embrace as if he were a great ginger one-eared teddy bear. She got him to laugh ensnaring him with her legs, which he swore grew longer every day.
Pleased to have cheered him from the moodiness she leaned into his hair, "...It is too hot to cuddle," she admitted without moving, "Can you start the fan?"
Together they kicked off the bed clothes entirely. George could just barely reach his wand on the nightstand and performed a cooling charm.
He settled into place, wrapped up in a tangle of arms and legs and his head tucked under her chin with his defunct ear pressed to her chest. He managed to focus on her breaths becoming shallow with sleep. The sound hypnotized and lulled him, and soon he, too, was closing his eyes, hoping to see her save the day again. Maybe this time, his own subconscious would be kind enough to give him a better cameo in her story.